Ghost stories of another kind
by HanajimaFB
Summary: E.Gadd tells the stories about the ghosts and how they came to be.
1. Default Chapter

A/N: 'ello. This fic is from Luigi's Mansion, so don't read if you don't want any spoilers. This is after the game. Everything is different. The mansion is still there, but the ghosts aren't. I'm ignoring the factual background stories of the portrait ghosts and making up my own. Maybe some OOC ness. Flames are not welcome but opinions are. 

Disclamer: I don't own Luigi's Mansion or Mario. And I have no money. I will…TURNINTOABEGGER!! MUAHAHAHAHA!  *ahem*

The small professor looked every please with the pieces of art back in place. Luigi wandered around, glanced at a couple of them with a questioning face. E.Gadd shuffled towards Luigi to view what the green-capped hero was looking at. 

            "That's Neville," he answered the unspoken question. He pointed his tiny finger at another portrait. "And that's Melody and over there is Miss Petunia." 

            "You know so much about them. Do you know who they really were or how they died?" Luigi asked. He was very interested in the ghosts. They did nothing to him, but scare him. Well, except Chaucey, Spooky and Bogmire.  The little man smiled. 

            "Of course. Sometimes, the ghosts repeat scenes in their lives and people wanted to know why. It's part of the study too." Luigi traced the dusty frame that held the picture of the twins with his fingers. The young Italian was deep in thought. _They were people before…_he thought. 

            "You wouldn't mind tell me about them, would you?" These weren't the mindless Boos or the brightly colored ghost he's encountered. They have to hold some kind of history. 

            "Do you want your brother to join in on the storytelling?" he swooped his hand toward the golden door down the hall. Luigi walked towards the door and opened it. He was embarrassed at what he saw.

            "…and you stupid little King Boo can have a beard. And Bowser will be bald. Nyahahaha…" Mario was having fun doodling on the large painting. 

            "Mario!"

            "Ack! Luigi! Don't scare me like that!" he sloppily juggled the magic marker that was released from his grip. Luigi rolled his eyes. And he was supposed to be the _older_ brother. 

            "Do you want to hear the stories about the ghosts or continue your scribbling?" Mario almost turned as red as his hat.

            "I-I'll go and listen," he knew that he was caught; the tone of his voice showed it. They re-grouped near the stone angels and waited for the scientist to speak. 

            "Now, the tales have different tones and different reasons on why or how they died. Some is jealously, love, hate, for the youth or the elderly. Whom should I tell about first?" he cupped his hands together. Mario wasn't very familiar with the ghosts, so Luigi selected.

            "How about Neville?" 

A/N: Short chapter! Wahh….oh well. I'll try to make the next ones longer. Please review. Please? 


	2. Happy ending?

A/N: The little *** separates the story to the guys in the gallery. 

"Alright." He nodded. "Just like you Luigi, he owned this mansion." 

***

            The feeble old Neville sat in a plush rocking chair in a young girl's bedroom.

            "…and they lived happily ever after." He finished, closing the book. The dark haired child stared at him with crystal like eyes. Her hands were cupping her cheeks.

            "Wow! Do you think that'll happen to me?" she questioned. He chuckled.

            "Wait until your older, Missy," He slowly started to rise. His arms lightly trembled. '_I'm getting too old,'_ he thought. The little girl looked slightly panicked.

            "Grandpa, where are you going?" 

            "It's almost you're bed time and you know how your mommy gets when you stay up too late." He shuffled his slipper-covered feet to her bed.

            "Awww." She flipped onto her backside. 

            "Good night princess," he gently kissed her on the head and tucked her in. She pulled out a plush bear she named Andy. 

            "Good night Grandpa," and she closed her eyes. He smiled and snuffled the candles out as he left the room. He started to the stairs and headed to the study. He encountered his daughter and son-in-law in the living room. The warm fire made the shadows dance.

            "Good evening Father. Is Missy asleep yet?" she asked. 

            "I just tucked her in," he replied. The old man sat on a couch to rest. 

            "Are you sure you don't need us to help you get around?" The father of Missy asked. The elder nodded. 

            "Are you going to the study again?" 

            "Of course. I have to find some more stories for Missy." The couple smiled. They knew he was very caring and loved Missy so dearly. His reason was for her to have the best childhood. So far, it's working. 

            "Well, the night is young, so I'll just catch up on my reading." He rose once again, but started leaning back. Like the gentleman he was, his child's husband held him steady.

            "Thank you, Charles," he smiled to show he was honest. The grandfather started walking to the study.

            "Good night Charles. Good night Bertha." 

            "Good night Father, see you in the morning." She watched one of her parents scoot his feet to the book room.

            Once he was there, he gently took a seat at the rocking chair. He re-opened his book and flipped the pages.

            "Cinderella…Rapunzal…Snow White…" he mumbled off the stories he had read to his granddaughter. The back and forth motion of his seat relaxed him for a bit. He stretched and yawned. _I'll find more stories for her tomorrow.' _ He noted to himself. He shut his eyes and let slumber take over. Unknowingly, death came along with it. Missy, who snuck downstairs, watched Neville with a giggling face. She always remembered he snored. She turned to her stuffed toy and whispered, 

            "Shh…Grandpa's sleeping."

 ***

            Luigi held a still face. Silence swam about the room. Mario looked downed.

            "That's…that's terrible. What happened after that?" Luigi asked. 

            "They found out after they caught Missy out of bed. Of course, they were saddened. The portrait was painted in his honor." E.Gadd also looked grief filled. "Missy painted it."  Mario mouthed a "How sad."  Luigi went up and looked at the painting. In fact, Missy's initials were scribbled at the corner. A side-note was carved in the frame.

            "To my grandfather. The man who opened my mind to what cannot be done by God, but by man." Luigi read aloud.

"She was a famous writer and painter. She managed to keep the house in the best condition."  Then, the ghost specialist tried to change the subject. 

            "Who would you like about now?" he timidly asked. Mario's younger sibling snapped out of the trance. 

            "Um….the clockwork solders?" 

A/N: Erk. It's short again.


	3. Love you to death

A/N: Ok, this may be semi-long and sappy. It seems that I'm taking requests now. Oh, and some of the characters are mine. They help the stories run. 

E.Gadd looked at their picture. 

"They weren't always clockwork."

***

            The mansion was passed down from buyer to buyer. It now ended up in the hands of a very wealthy man. But the story isn't about him; it's about his three daughters: Isabelle, Rose, and Sylvie. They're triplets that had a very loving father. The three girls were 19 around the event time. But what does this have to do with the clockwork soldiers? Almost everything. 

            One of the servants brought in a couple of letters to the sisters one morning. They were from the soldiers. 

            "Daddy daddy!" Isabelle quickly sped down the stairs while Rose was jumping three by three. Sylvie was already telling they father about the news. 

            "Look! Look! Father! They're coming back! It says so here!" three letters were shoved in his face. He chuckled a bit.

            "My dears, those letter are a week late," he said. The girls checked the letters and looked down.

            "That would mean that they're suppose to be here…" Isabelle pouted her lips.

            "Does that mean they're coming?" Rose excitedly shouted. He shook his head. 

            "Incorrect. They are already here." He bought the ladies to the foyer and opened the door. And there they were. The human form of the clockwork soldiers, uniforms and all. Sylvie held back her tears of joy. Rose looked even more cheerful and hugged what she called "her soldier boy." Isabelle took small steps toward her lover. 

            "You're back…" she whispered. He brushed his lips on her cheek to give her a taste of reality. 

            "And it feels wonderful to be back…with you," he smiled and took her into his arms. Rose was already jabbering about social events that her boyfriend missed. Sylvie decided to have a private walk to the courtyard with hers. They're father was long gone, seeing that he wasn't need anymore. Rose's ponytail shook so much while talking. The poor guy didn't get to talk. He didn't care though. The chatterbox dragged him upstairs to her room to gossip some more. Isabelle seemed to be happily trapped in her lover's embrace. 

Sylvie sat on the swing with her tanned legs dangling. Her companion sat on the stone bench, looking a tad nervous. 

            "Something wrong, Philippe?"  Her soft voice ended the silence. He could've sworn she could read minds.

            "It's nothing. I just need to talk to your father about something…" he trailed off with his eyes that seemed to be interested in the grass. She smirked.

            "Do you want to marry me?" Philippe looked surprised. 

            "W-well…it's a yes and a no," was his feeble cover up. She hopped off the swing and took a seat next to Philippe. 

            "Am I not too pretty for you?" she flipped her brown hair over her shoulder in a sarcastic manner. He nudged her with his shoulder. 

            "Not at all, I've just found someone else," he played along. She pushed him back with her shoulder to his. Soon, a childish shoving war started. It quickly ended by Sylvie bumping him off the bench. He smiled at her.

            "Fine fine. Will you marry me?" of course, he wasn't in a great position to propose, but she didn't care. 

            "I'd be glad too." 

***

            "What about Rose and Isabelle?" Mario asked.

            "I'm getting to them."

***

            The rejoiced couple from the door way walked room to room for no reason. They were just happy to be with each other. They finally rested in the guest room. Isabelle had her head against his shoulder while mildly chatting. He held her creamy peach colored hand tightly and thought of his plans after the war. He just had to do one more thing.

            "Izzy, we've been together for a while huh?"

            "Mm hmm. Does silly Willy have a bad memory?" she cooed. 

            "It's not that. It's just…" he sighed. "Well…after this stupid civil war is over maybe we could…maybe…"

            "Maybe what?" she was very interested. He was never this hesitant. The solider gulped and knelt near her feet. He kissed her hand and spoke.

            "Will you…I-I mean can I have the honor to become your…husband?" she blinked.

            "Is my bun on too tight or did you ask me to marry you?"

            "I, William, have asked you to marry me. Please say yes." 

            After that, a long pause poisoned the air. He grasped her hand and looked up at her. She nibbled on her bottom lip.

            "So, where's the ring?" William knew what Isabelle meant and kissed her fully on the lips. She said yes, in her own little way.

***

            "Awww, that's cute," Luigi commented. Mario pondered about marriage, but Luigi decided for him.

            "You gotta save Peach a couple more times before you two settled down."

***

            The hyper teen yakked on and on about other countries, boys, girls, her family, clothes, the sun, Earth, moon, stars, and so on. Luckily, she had a good listener near by. He barely made any comments. Or had any chance to talk. After her babbling, she finally gave him time to speak. 

            "Ok, so, uh what did you want to say?" she smiled and waited. Oddly, his lips remained sealed. He dug through his suit to find a small box. With his thumb, he flicked it open and presented to her. And he didn't say a thing.

            "_I'm_ going to be a wife!? Me?! Moi?! I'm going to be _the_ Mrs. Jason Steele? Such good news!" She clapped her hands together with her green eyes smiling. "I can't wait to tell Isabelle and Sylvie! They'll be so jealous!" she hugged the young man. 

            "Love ya, Rose." He whispered. Then his ears were drowned with her squealing and other plans. Nonetheless, they both had smiles on their faces. 

***

            "Can you cut to the part were they somehow become wooden toys?" Mario wasn't very patient. The storyteller heaved a sigh.

            "Alright. A week after, the boys had to return back to the battlegrounds. A month later, they were reported dead. All three of them. The toys represented them and their souls were kept inside. They protected the little house because the girls would sneak upstairs to the attic and nap there. They loved them beyond their death. The mansion was given to them, but they let anyone have it. As long at the room stayed. Out of heartache and sorrow, the girls died unmarried. They felt that it kept them loyal." 

TBC

Next up: Melody Pianissima


	4. Leaving on a low note

A/N: Sorry for the late posting. Twas too lazy. ^^;; Ok, new format type thing

"***" means separation from the story to the people in the gallery (duh)

"*~*~*" means scene switching in the story. 

"It was like fate had named her Melody." 

***

            Just as soon the piano keys stopped moving, the crowd around the theater clapped with fire crackling like sound. Melody stood from her step and gave a respectful bow, which earned her more applause. She gazed at the innumerable people with the lights stunning her eyes. The curtains fell and some of the staff aided her with ether water or make up. She just wiped some sweat off her forehead and returned to her room to rest. Her butler, Shivers, was accompanying her and waited outside in the carriage. It was her last performance for the year. Shivers watched the clumps of people move out of the theater. They mumbled and agreed that the performance was one of the best. Shivers sighed. They've always said that. 'Beautiful and talented Melody…' he thought. 'Why has heaven cursed the Earth with an angel like you?'

            Melody was dressing into cooler clothes and waited for the public to leave. She glanced out the window and saw Shivers' lonesome face. One of the maids in the room peered at what she was looking at.

            "Is that your father?" she asked. Melody smiled.

            "Oh, no. He's my butler." 

            "Why does he have such a long face?" 

            "It's a long story." The blue haired beauty turned her face away from the window. The maid didn't know when to quit.

            "Can't you summarize it?" 

            "I guess so." She closed the shudder of the window and locked the door. "Long time ago, his wife was burned to death while their house was on fire. He witnessed it all and became traumatized and homeless. My family took him in and he wanted to pay us back for our kindness. Now, he lives with me in the mansion."  

            "I'm so sorry," she said. "Don't you think that he might harm you?"

            "Of course not. I think he's too old to do so. Maybe he's over it." But doubts began to fill her head anyway. "His wife sort of looked like me when she was my age…"

She walked out when the whole house was cleared and started towards the awaiting ride. 

            "Good evening, Melody," Shivers spoke politely. She smiled at him and nodded as she stepped inside. 

            "You look uneasy."

            "Oh…rough day." 

*~*~*~*

            She lazily drug her pale fingers across the keys of her piano. She wasn't really playing anything, nor could have at midnight. Her parents would've scolded her. She sighed in weariness and boredom, but thoughts of the "trusted" Shivers tugged her eyelids up. What also shook her awake were the peering eyes of the butler. 

            "Ms. Pianzza, it's dark. You should be in bed," he advised her. She could tell he was worried. With or without the candle light that glowed in the room. 

            "I know. I still need more time…to…to think," was her reply. 

            "Who on Earth would think that this hour? You haven't had a wink of sleep ever since the ride home." He took a seat near the harp. "And that was hours ago."

            "Why do you worry over me, Shivers?" she hid her eyes under the shadow of her bangs.

            "What kind of absurd question is that?" he moved over to her to feel her forehead.

"Don't touch me!" she snapped. The elder man removed his hand in an instant. Paranoia entered her mind. Her eyes looked cold and untrusting.

            "Miss…are you stressed from today's concert? It's the last and-"

            "Please answer my question." She was holding her temper.

            "Well, since your family was kind enough to get me back on my feet, I should return the kindness, am I right?"

            "Liar! What kind of a fool do you take me as?!" she snatched the tri-topped candlestick and pointed the bright end at him.

            "What has gotten into you?" he stood, backing panic. 

            "What's wrong Shivers? Afraid of a little fire?" she jabbed the flames threading at him.

            "Have you gone mad!?" 

            "Don't call me names!" she threw the candleholder at his feet with much rage. He jumped due to fear. The fire smoked the curtains and ate up the near by musical instruments. Shivers couldn't let the same thing happen again. He snatched her by the wrist and led her out before more smoke could rise. Melody was in a daze, unaware of her moving feet. Shivers didn't bother looking back. All he wanted was Melody to be safe. 

The butler yanked open the door to his room and let the musician rest. He quickly moved odds and ends from a wall. He then shoved the wall.

"Melody, stay in there. That is the treasury. There's a mirror trick that will bring you into the parlor so you can escape. Just stand in front of a mirror and close your eyes." He instructed. Melody looked at him questioningly.

"What about you?" she asked.

"I will try to put out the fire and alert your parents."

"But—"

"Go! Go now!" he lightly pushed her in the room. She watched him leave both rooms. Shivers tried to get to the kitchen, but the hallway was covered in flames. The red-orange matter had dominated the walls, doors, and floor. Thick, black smoke traced the yet to be burned. The ruffed red carpet below him started to glow. He backed away and hit a dead end. His time came sooner than he thought. 

The heir to the Pianzza family stood before a mirror. Her time to escape was quickly shorting. She didn't care. All she cared about was the demon staring back at her. This was her fault, and she knew it. Barely blinking, she used hatred again. Hating herself for bringing Hell's fire. Brainwashed by the Devil. She calmly sat down and watched the poisonous black clouds form in the room. Her justice was served with every deep breath made.

***

            "My theory is, she returned to the room that started it all. She might have been trying to change the past. Meanwhile, Shivers lives what happened after."

            "Well, what happened to the house? Was it rebuilt?" Luigi asked.

            "Some neighbors help put out the fire before it got too big. Her parents lived and sold the house after it was repaired."

            "Who'd it transferred to?"

            "Many people. But I'm guessing you wanted to know which portrait ghost. The wealthy Lydia." 


	5. Sleeping Beauty

            A/N: Sorry for the delay. Skool stinks. Sorry bout the short chapters. I'd like to thank all the reads/reviewers who've put up with my last posting. ^^;; I'll try to push myself harder. ONWARD!  

"Now this death, this death was a murder."

***

             The golden haired Lydia sat before her mirror, humming idly while brushing her hair. She was to meet another suitor the next day and had to look her best. Of course, it wasn't too hard for her. Her light blue nightgown flowed gracefully from her shoulders to her ankles. The silk traced her every curve. Every woman in the country envied her. Not only did she have the looks, but also she had an enormous amount of money. She didn't spend all the money at once. Some was in the bank, and some was in her home. Her father saw what kind of person she is and decided to purchase the well-hidden mansion for his only child. To thank her father, she promised to find a nice husband to have her children with.

            _'I hope this next gentleman will be better than the last'_ she thought, placing her brush on her lap. She never courted a man twice. She found it a waste of time to jump from man to man. 

            A gust of wind tattered her long locks of hair. She broke from her thoughts and gasped at the sudden coldness. Lydia treaded towards the window, blocking out any flying leaves from her face. She pulled the curtain open and noted the window was _broken_. 

            It was too dark to tell if anyone or anything got in, for she had only lit one candle. _'Must be some rodent'_ she assured herself. She patched up the hole with stacked books and resumed her place in front of the mirror. Her hair was tattered, with dead leaves tangled in it. She didn't notice that. She kept her eyes on the pair of gleaming eyes and the reflection of a knife. 

            She didn't turn around. It might be all in her head or some psycho that struck at anything that moved. She watched the mysterious figure from her mirror. It took a step towards her stiff self. Her hand trembled to the drawer closest to her. Lighting reflexes of the newcomer kicked the opening drawer from her hand and impulsively had her pinned to a wall. Lydia whimpered at the cold blade inches from her neck. 

            "What do we have here?" the gleaming eyes turned to see the insides of the desk drawer spilled on the wooden floor. Broken pearl necklaces and gold rings decorated the ground. Alongside, there was a loaded gun. 

            "Tsk tsk, m'lady." The intruder mockingly said. "That's very unlike of you to have something like that."

            "What do you want?" she harshly whispered. He chuckled at this.

            "You knew. You knew what I wanted. But you didn't give it to me." She looked confused. 

            "W-what are you-"

            "I wanted you!" he pushed the knife deep into her skin, but not enough to kill her. She cried out and balled her hands up. Tears escaped her eyelids and rolled down her paling cheeks. She tried to look at her past suitor, but the blood was draining from her fast. 

            "No one can have you now." Her ears started to hurt from trying to listen to his rasping voice. "If you want medical attention, you will tell me where your riches lie."

            "Liar…" she panted. That earned her a slap in the face. 

            "Fine, I'll just trash your quarters." He dropped her to the ground and began his greedy search. Power in her limbs was breaking away from her in a painfully immense rate. She couldn't let the numbness take over. Whitening fingers searched for the gun. They stopped at an object that felt like steel. Lifting the pistol, her failing strength of her fingertips pulled the trigger. The recoil made her arms ache and left her groaning. Soon after the smoke flew out the window, a thump was heard. Her blue eyes brightened, despite the fact that she was dying. She got her revenge. 

            "Maybe Heaven has my husband…" were her last words.

***

            E.Gadd blinked at both of the plumbers' gaping mouths. 

            "This is how much human willpower she had." He broke the awkward silence. "Speaking of which, Sir Watson, champion mountain climber, had a lot of human willpower too."


End file.
